


Trade All My Tomorrows

by miriad



Category: Indiana Jones
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 22:50:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miriad/pseuds/miriad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She realized that she was still wearing his hat.  Gently lifting it from her head, she set the thing in her lap and frowned.  A fedora, battered and dusty.  She felt the brim with two fingers and wondered what stories a hat like that had to tell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trade All My Tomorrows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LemuelCork](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemuelCork/gifts).



> Thank you to my wonderful Beta!

Trade All My Tomorrows

 

**Start at the beginning, when the world was new**

University of Chicago, 1926

The new archeology assistant was set to arrive in the afternoon. Marion wasn't sure if she was supposed to meet him at the office, or if her father had meant she was to meet him at Union Station. She assumed that he had meant the office but since he hadn't been specific, she decided to make her way downtown.

She had a bit of money in her pocket, the remains of her birthday cash- enough, she knew, to pay for the bus or a cab if she really wanted to splurge. She wasn't sure if he was worth it- the money or the trouble- but she hadn't had very much fun on her own in a long while. Besides, if she could show the new guy that there was more to the job than just her father and a handful of undergraduates, well, all the better. At sixteen, she could be trusted to think for herself and be proactive, especially when it could help her father. Could help both of them.

Henry Jones Jr. had quite the reputation in archeological circles, even as young as he was, and Marion's father wanted to make sure that Jones didn't defect to another university. His scholarly work would do wonders for the University of Chicago, or so her father had told her. She read between the lines and knew that her father needed Jones. Needed that spark to show that Abner's work was vital and alive and exciting. He needed Jones to keep his position and his funding.

Marion was just annoyed that she had to take time out of her day at the library to play fetch and carry.

She finally decided that it was a nice day and a walk would do her some good. They'd take a cab back, she decided, and keep everyone happy. With that, she pulled her sweater from the coat rack and locked the office door on her way out. Passing by a number of graduate students, she ignored the looks they gave her, ignored the glances at her legs, clad in a pair of trousers.

She walked and enjoyed the weather and wondered why more people couldn't simply see the day for what it was. Beautiful. Cool breeze off the lake making the temperature just right for the brisk of spring but the promise of a fine, hot summer.

 

**The cute meet, only not**

He was an ass. Handsome and clever and charismatic but an ass all the same. Calling her 'kid' and 'sport' despite the fact that it was clear she was a woman, thank you very much. He had set his hat on her head, carried his bag to the curb and hailed a cab with a quick hand and a whistle.

He held the door for her, let her slide across the seat before settling in next to her, then turned his head towards her and smiled.

And she was done. Head over heels in love in that single flash of even, white teeth even if she didn't realize what had happened, not for years and years.

At the time, her heart had fluttered in her chest, her face had flushed hot and her hands gone clammy at what seemed like exactly the same time.

"So, you're Abner's kid?"

"Marion. Yes. Abner's daughter. Professor Ravenwood. That's correct."

"Abner busy this afternoon?"

"Senior lecture. He's prepping them for the dig. He felt that it was more important- well, not more important but something that he needed to do when he could send me here. For you. "

"Makes sense." Jones leaned out the window, propping himself up on his elbow, resting his chin on his hand. Eyes closed, he took a deep breath, like he was savoring the air. Like he hadn't been able to savor air like that for a long time. Marion watched him, curious about just where Henry Jones, Jr. had found himself that Chicago smelled like a treasure.

"University of Chicago please. Archeology building." She directed the driver and sat back, watching the city pass her by. Jones' eyes stayed closed the whole ride. Marion risked a few glances his way, trying not to be obvious. He ignored her, slept if his breathing was anything to go by. He shouldn't have been all that impressive, she thought, and yet there was something there.

She realized that she was still wearing his hat. Gently lifting it from her head, she set the thing in her lap and frowned. A fedora, battered and dusty. She felt the brim with two fingers and wondered what stories a hat like that had to tell.

 

**Misadventures, just to make life interesting**

Abner hadn't wanted to spend the department's money on housing Jones, not when he could take those funds and put them towards equipment for the dig, so Marion had worked for weeks to clean and prepare the guest room, the guest bath and the kitchen so that the new student could stay with them in comfort.

She wasn't vain and certainly didn't care that her hands looked like she had soaked them in lye for weeks. Her biggest concern was making sure that the new student would like his living quarters. It was just so important that he be happy. Abner was obsessed and Marion knew that she'd never forgive herself if she did anything to ruin this for him.

She washed the good linens and folded down the quilt on the bed. Marion beat the rugs out back, the dust kicking up something fierce but she got over it, despite sneezing for days afterwards.

Her cleaning took her all over the house, under things, over things and behind them. Dust bunnies were defeated, although she would deny it up and down if anyone claimed they had watched her duel with the dirt in her hours of greatest exhaustion.

 

She wasn't sure what she should think of the new guy. Sharp dresser, pair of glasses balanced on his nose. Deep brown eyes that seemed to have every women within a hundred miles blushing and ducking their heads away from him, even old Mrs. Babcock, Dr. Francis' secretary. Marion wasn't sure what she *should* think but she knew what she *did* think.

Henry Jones Jr. was cute. And she wanted him to think the same thing about her. The problem was that she could have been invisible for all the attention Jones paid her.

Indiana. She corrected herself mentally. She'd called him Dr. Jones at first. He had laughed and smiled and told her that he wasn't entirely comfortable with that label. So she called him Henry, voice hesitant. He laughed even harder, then ran his knuckles over the top of her head and told her to just call him 'Indiana.'

So he was odd but that was fine. She was used to odd. A person couldn't spend all their time around academics and not become acclimated to odd.

Marion liked Indiana. Indy. She liked him. More than she should. And he didn't see her as anything but Abner Ravenwood's daughter. But she was going on the dig and she had made it her goal for this trip, at least, to get Indy to notice her. She had a plan, written in neat block script, written in a journal hidden in the bottom of her bag. She had carefully plotted each stage of the trip, the various bits and pieces that she would lay out to get Indy interested in her and then, the final piece that would get him to come to her and make her his.

She imagined his lips on hers, the bit of scruff that he ran around sporting when he was working rough against her cheek. But the good kind of rough. The grown-up, adult, sexy kind of rough. She imagined what he would smell like, what he would taste like, the sounds he would make as he realized that she was passionate beyond her years. The way he would take her, like in all those movies.

She wished she had a fancy dress, knowing that men tended to be attracted to a woman in a slinky, fancy dress. She looked down at the contents of her bag and sighed.

Work pants and blouses. No skirts- too dangerous in the desert and prone to offending the locals. Her best dress, which was far from fancy, just in case. Heavy soled work boots and thick cotton socks. She was prepared to work and get her hands dirty, not to court and catch a man. Marion sighed again and pulled the bag closed.

She almost reached the door when she stopped, spotting the simple but beautiful wooden box sitting on the top of her dresser. She set her bag on the floor and walked slowing towards the box, her eyes not leaving the smooth, stained surface. She ran one finger over the top of the box, brushing off a layer of dust. Lifting the lid, she looked down on a collection of pots- the entirety of her mother's make-up collection. It wasn't much but there was a pot of lip stain and one of rouge. Marion hesitated and then pulled the two items out and let the lid of the box close with a snap.

Feet moving quickly over the wooden floor, she leaned forward and loosened the ties slightly, dropping the pots inside. Tightening the ties and lifting the bag, she all but ran from the room, not looking back again.

 

**Adventures on the high seas**

Abner Ravenwood had decided that they all would ride the steamer together, a way to let the crew bond over the journey. The Atlantic was not the greatest pleasure cruise, however, and Marion and a few of the younger students spent much of their time at the railing, trying not to be sick.

It had always bothered Marion that she had so much experience on steamers but she had never developed the stomach for the ocean. It was embarrassing and wasn't made any better by watching Indiana Jones acting as if he were simply walking down the street, for all the water affected him.

He caught her looking a few times, throwing a bright smile her way. It didn't feel as though he was mocking her but that didn't mean he wasn't.

Later in the evening, when the smart folks had found their way off the deck into the warmth and light of the inner cabins, Marion found herself still staring into the ocean. The waves that hid such secrets. Such treasures.

She jumped when she felt his sleeve brush against hers and then his breath was against her ear, his laugh almost too loud but not quite. Indy. She shuddered against the railing, something fluttering through her, powerful as anything she'd experienced before.

"Didn't mean to startle you." Voice smooth as scotch and just as dangerous in too large a quantity. She wondered if that thought was her own or something she had stolen from a pulp novel. She decided that she didn't care.

"You didn't." She hoped her voice was steady but was so nervous, she couldn't tell.

"Awfully cold to be out here."

"It's pretty. That makes up for a lot."

"Not when you catch pneumonia."

"When I do, we'll talk. Until then, I prefer the sea air."

"A bit queasy, huh?" She looked at him from the corner of her eye and noticed that he wasn't smiling, not like he had been before. His hands were clasped where he leaned over the railing. The wind blew his hair about, the strands dark but sun kissed. She guessed that he'd go full blond before the dig was over. She hoped she'd get to see that. He'd look good, she thought, with a few more strands of the sun on him.

"And if I say yes?"

"I'd tell you that there are people who get used to it and people who never do. Doesn't say anything about you, as a person."

"Should I thank you for those words of wisdom?"

"I don't know. Should you?" He turned, leaning his shoulder against the rail, face dark in shadows. She knew, because she knew him well enough, that he was smirking at her. She smirked right back.

"Maybe later. When I know for sure."

"Know what?"

"If I get used to it."

"You do that." He reached out with a cool finger and tweaked her nose. Marion's stomach dropped further than it already was. Men didn't tweak the noses of women they wanted to sleep with. She fought the urge to swear, at least until she was sure that Indy had made his way through the hatch, into the inner corridor. Away from her.

 

**Adventures in the sand**

Marion tried to catch her breath but found it much more difficult than she was expecting. Trying to spit out sand and dust made it all the more difficult. Indy flopped down next to her, breath heavy and deep.

"Well, that didn't go well."

"Really? I wouldn't have guessed." Her turned to look at her, face covered in dust and sweat, eyes narrowed. He pointed a finger at her, body tense.

"I don't have time for this, Marion. Buck up or I'll leave you behind."

"I'll believe it when I see it, Jones."

"Be quiet."

"You be quiet."

"We don't want them to hear us, don't you get it? We shut up and just sit, they'll pass on through."

"And how long will that take?"

"As long as it takes."

"Wonderful. Should have brought a book."

"You didn't? You bag was heavy enough."

"Don't start with me. Just don't-" Indy's hand flung out, palm slapping over her mouth, cutting her off but giving her just enough space to breathe. He held up one finger of his other hand to his lips, gesturing for silence, then pointed down the ridge to the oasis below.

She nodded to him, meeting his eyes to let him know that she understood. She'd be quiet. He dropped his hand from her face and crawled slowly towards the edge of the cliff.

As best as she could tell, it was a group of Bedouins. Wearing traveling clothes meant for the desert, she couldn't see their faces very well but she could see the rifles that they wore slung over their shoulders and hanging from the horses that they had ridden in on. Marion would have guessed that they were merely travels seeking the water of the oasis but a few of them men stopped to look at the tracks that she and Indy had left earlier in the day. The tracks that led to the caverns at the base of the rocky formation. Their interest made Marion concerned and apparently made Indy tense and jumpy. It was not a good look on him.

She could feel the sand snaking in through her clothes, working its way into her under clothes, rubbing between the fabric and her skin. It itched like crazy but she knew if she started scratching, she wouldn't be able to stop.

Indy lay still as if he had spent hours doing just that. After the day they had just had, she wouldn't be surprised to learn that he had.

After what felt like hours but was probably less than 45 minutes, Marion propped her forehead on her forearms and let herself drift off to sleep.

A gentle shake to her shoulder woke her. She yawned and felt words start to leave her mouth, wanting to ask what time it was but she bit them off when she remembered where she was. Her head snapped towards where Indy should be and there he was, smiling at her, face bright.

"Wake up, sweetheart. They're gone."

"You're sure?" She coughed, sand making her throat dry and scratchy.

"Oh, yeah. I'm sure. They left about three hours ago. Sent a last man back to verify that no one came crawling out of the cracks but he left an hour ago. Let's go!"

"Go where?"

"To the water." He looked at her as though she had grown a second head or the first had fallen off. "you telling me that the first sign of standing water on this entire trip and you don't want to take a bath?"

"Bath?"

"Yeah. Come on." He stood, legs propelling him smoothly to his feet. He held out a hand to her and she hesitated for just a second before deciding that this was what she had been waiting for.

"My father is going to kill us."

"Nah, he's just going to kill me. My idea, my theory." Indy made sure that she was steady on her feet and let her hand go, surveying the scene and looking for the best way down. Their climb up had been more about speed and not about safety. The way down would be a different story, Marion could already tell.

"But I went along with it."

"Yeah, but you're young and impressionable."

"Not that young." Offended, she crossed her arms and looked him dead in the eye.

"Young enough." He looked down his nose at her, face twisted into that professorial glare that he got every once in a while. She could tell, from that face alone, that he was going to be a great lecturer.

"If we'd found the stupid thing, he'd be ecstatic." Changing the subject from her age to something else was always the first step towards getting Indy to think of her as something other than a little sister or a girl who wasn't even in the same league as the rest of the female graduate students.

"No, he'd be furious that we found the Ark and he wasn't there. This is a much better outcome in the long run. Trust me."

"Except I'm stuck out in the desert, with you, at night. Alone." She looked at him expectantly, eyebrows raised. He looked away, something suddenly charged between them. He took a step away from her and she let him, not wanting to push. But he surprised her and turned back her way.

"Worried I might bite?" Indy smirked at her. Without waiting for a response, he turned to head down off the cliff.

"I'm worried that you won't.," she muttered at his back, frowning.

He led the way back down to the oasis, feet sure and steady over the rocks. Marion's own feet wanted to find the loosest places to step, the ones that would be sure to break her ankle and make her next to useless on this dig. But she followed Indy, stepped where he did and she found her way down without incident.

With no preamble, Indy started to strip at the water's edge, laying his clothes flat on the rocks, boots sitting on top. He had, Marion noticed, stripped down to bare skin, no clothing at all.

He was beautiful. Shades of gold skin, variations caused by sun exposure of the lack there of, sand and dirt. Muscles of a man used to working hard with his hands and his body. Every part of him called to Marion and she knew then that all she wanted out of this godforsaken dig was to touch him, just once and have him touch her back.

"You coming?" He stood in the water, wet and glistening and just gorgeous. She swallowed and fumbled with the buttons on her blouse.

"Yeah. Yes. I'm coming." She peeled off her shirt, sweat making it stick to her back and her arms, the fabric stiff in other places where sweat had already dried. Her equally damp brassiere took a minute to wrangle off. She could feel Indy's eyes on her but with her back turned towards him she couldn't see what look was on his face. Seeing her as a child or as a woman, she didn't know and was afraid to find out.

Unlaced boots, pants removed and shaken to dislodge the sand and dirt. Underwear carefully folded on top of her brassiere, she was naked and suddenly terrified of what to do next. Hands at her side, she turned slowly towards the water, feeling the flush of pink creeping up her chest and her neck. Her freckles, she was sure, stood out against her skin, scattering across her shoulders and down her back, the ones on her nose and cheeks already flush and prominent due to the sun.

She met Indy's eyes, afraid but not knowing what else to do. His face had paled, eyes wide as they looked at her. Marion glanced down at herself.

Her breasts were moderately sized. She was no Mae West but then, who was? She felt her nipples tighten as the breeze blew warm across them and she blushed even more. Her belly was flat and taught, muscles there from long days working on the dig. She wasn't soft and round like the women in the movies but she wasn't a lump on a log either. Her legs were thin but toned, her feet long and narrow, callused from wearing boots all day. She looked like she could put in a days work and not drop dead from it. Marion had never considered that attractive in herself but based on the look on Indy's face, she might have to rethink things.

"What?" The word slipped out.

"What, what?"

"What are you staring at?"

"Sweet lord, Marion. I'm staring at you. Come here." His voice wavered, the tone dropping to low and gravely, something she had never heard from him before. At least, not directed at her. She walked slowly towards the water, feet touch the edge of the pool, the coolness zapping her like a bolt of electricity.

The water felt amazing on her skin, especially after weeks of sponge baths in her tent. She closed her eyes and sighed, forgetting for a second that Indy was right there, very naked and very aware that she was too. She startled when she felt his hand slide across her back.

When she opened her eyes, he was right there, brown eyes clear and wide. He looked young, she realized, almost like a kid. She knew how old he was. Almost ten years older than she was but he felt so much older. More mature. And yet, here he was, looking like he was afraid her father was going to walk into the oasis at any moment and he'd get caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

He looked at her like he wanted her even though he shouldn't.

He stood mere inches away, his arm behind her but not touching her anywhere else. He seemed poised on the edge of a moment, just waiting for something to happen, for something to push them both, one way or the other. Marion had been waiting for so long. Months in the same house, weeks on the same steamer ship, sharing a campsite and now here and she knew that she couldn't let this chance slip through her fingers. She wasn't entirely sure what she was supposed to do, exactly, but Mae West slithered into her mind and she decided to stop being so snow white and drift a little.

She leaned forward, falling onto Indy, forcing him to reach out and catch her. Her lips met his, then her chest pressed against his. He tensed against her then he pulled her tight, opening his mouth slightly to dip out with his tongue. She felt her own mouth open in response and met him halfway, tongues twisting together.

And then he was pushing her back. Her feet slid in the slick sand and she struggled to find her balance.

"I don't-"

"Marion, what are you doing?"

"What I've wanted to do for months."

"Months, huh? And just what do you think you want?"

"I want you." Indy's eyes narrowed and he stalked toward her, his speed hampered by the waist high water.

"Do you? Do you even know what that means?" She could see his cock bobbing in the water. She had seen pictures before, both in a biology text book and in the contraband pornographic book that a student had left behind in his desk at the archeology office. She knew what a cock was, knew what it was called outside of the realm of science. She knew theoretically but not in actuality and that needed to change.

She reached out and grasped Indy's cock with her right hand. He stopped moving. He stopped talking. His eyes closed and his breath left his body with a hiss.

"I know that I want you. I want this. I'm not a kid, Indy. I know what I want." She could feel every muscle in his body tense and release, then repeat.

"You think you know, but you don't."

"Then why don't you show me?" She squeezed gently and watched Indy's teeth clench as she did so.

His eyes still closed, she watched as he raised a hand from the water and reached for her. Water dropped from his finger and ran rivulets down her chest, over her breasts, off her nipples. Her skin puckered with the cool water and she gave a small gasp. Indy lowered his hand, running his fingers gently from her clavicle towards her navel. He brushed across her breast, fingers rubbing across her nipples and she hissed at the contact.

Gently, ever so gently, she pulled him towards her, hand still firmly on his cock. He took the two steps he needed to be flush up against her and stopped, his hand still resting on her breast, fingers still playing with her nipple. Marion leaned forward and took his nipple in her mouth, licking softly at the small nub. His eyes snapped open.

"I need to know that you mean it." He voice was low and broken, his breath coming in sharp pants.

"I mean it. I've always meant it." He paused for one moment, then raised both hands to her face. Cupping her cheeks in his large palms, he leaned forward and kissed her properly, deep and strong. She let go of his cock and reached up to wrap her arms around his neck.

His hands slide down her sides, making her shiver as he tickled ever so gently. Hands down at her waist, her reached behind her and lifted. She wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles together behind him. They stood there for a moment, looking at each other, breathing in each others breath.

"Now what?" She whispered to him.

"Let me show you."

And he did. All night long.

 

**Where everything falls down but it's not the end. Not yet.**

He curled himself around her back, bare skin on bare skin. Not the safest way to sleep, due to the desert and due to her father but she loved the way his body felt against hers. She had insisted and he had indulged her.

It would be the last mistake they made together for a very long time.

His arm hung heavy over her side, his palm warm and flush against her breast. Her nipple tightened at the contact and she wriggled back against him, feeling his cock stir at her touch. He pulled her closer, teeth nipping at the back of her neck, then at her ear lobe. His hand wandered down blow the sheet, teasing her with his fingers, making her gasp and close her eyes.

His cock, full and hard and ready, pressed between the cheeks of her ass, rubbing and moving and letting her know that he was just as ready as she was. Indy brought his wet fingers up to his lips, licks at the moisture there then letting her share it with him. She turned to kiss him, to taste herself on his lips when the tent flap opened, sun bursting in.

Silhouetted in the door was her father, dressed as he did every day to find the Ark. Always prepared, always ready, he looked like he had walked out of a Kipling novel. The sun behind him made it difficult to see his face but the fury that he brought into the tent made it clear that he was not happy.

Indy froze for a moment, his hands still but then his body began to react and he pushed her away. It wasn't forceful and it wasn't cruel but she felt it as if a knife had been stabbed between her ribs.

"Jones. My tent. Five minutes." The flap dropped closed as Abner walked away and the darkness once again filled the space. But Marion's eyes had already changed in the light and she fought to see Indy as he reached for his pants and shook out his boots, looking for spiders and scorpions.

"Indy-"

"Don't, Marion. Just don't."

"Indy, please." She sat up, bring the sheet with her, wrapping herself in the rough material, no longer finding comfort there. Indy's shirt hung open, dark marks on his chest and neck evidence of the night before. Evidence that she had been there and been with him, marking him as he had her. She could feel the bite on her thigh, imagine the mark that she knew would be there. She pressed her thighs together, the sensation sharp.

He stopped at the tent flap, hat in his hands. He reached out to grab the canvas but stopped, head dropping to his chest. Her turned slightly, head tilted towards her but not meeting her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Marion. I really, really am." With that, he opened the tent flap and walked out.

And that was the last she saw of Indiana Jones for a long, long time.

She tried to dress herself but he fingers shook as she passed button through button hole. She smelled like him, smelled of him, and she knew that a bath was a long time coming. She would carry him with her until she found fresh water or her own sweat washed him away. She wasn't sure what she wanted- to keep him or to wash him away.

It was out of her hands, really. The world would do as it liked, as it always had, without ever asking what she thought.

Marion felt the tears coming and tried to stop them but she had been holding them off for far too long and they tumbled out of her eyes like water over a dam. She let herself fall back down on the pallet, the scents of their lovemaking still fresh and clear. She cried even harder, curling her feet up towards her chest and she wondered just where she went wrong.

Her father didn't come for her at all that day and neither did any of the workers. No one brought her food or reminded her to eat and she was grateful for the peace and the silence. It was only after the sun had sunk below the hills and the smell of the fires began to drift towards her tent did she realize just how hungry she was, how much she needed water and a piece of bread to settle her stomach.

She pulled on her boots and wiped her face with the heel of her hand. Pulling back the flap of her tent, she closed her eyes as the breeze hit, the scents of the desert soothing her soul as they had since she was a child.

Marion walked slowly towards the fire, not sure if she wanted to run into anyone or if she just wanted to be left alone but fate was by her side. No one spoke to her, despite the concerned and pitying glances she received.

Her father sat at the fire on a pile of blankets, gifts from a neighboring tribe in the area. Even the cool desert air had not been cool enough for the blankets and they had been relegated to the fire as alternate seating arrangements. He turned to look at her as she stepped into the ring of light around the fire pit and she grimaced as she saw the sorrow and exhaustion on his face. Her dear, sweet father who had done everything he could to keep her safe, to teach her what she needed to know. All that work and she had ruined it all with one bad decision.

What had she done? All her life it had been just Marion and Abner. A team. They had worked together, making decisions that were best for the team. And she had made a decision that was just about her, just for her and look how it had turned out. Her father was so disappointed in her, she could read it in his face. She wondered what he was going to say to her, what he was going to do. Her chest hurt, right above her heart and she wondered if a person could actually feel their heart breaking.

But then he smiled at her, sad and small, but a smile none the less and he motioned for her to join him. Slowly she made her way around to him, stepping over workers napping, workers eating, students trying to read in the fire light. When she reached her father, Abner held out his arms and Marion began to cry. Falling into her father's embrace, she pressed her face into his shoulder and she wept.

"There, there, my girl," he murmured into her hair. "It's all right. We shall be all right."

She felt like a child in his arms, tiny and precious and broken. She wanted to hate Indy for all he had done but all she could do was hate herself. She cried and cried and let it all out onto her father's shoulder until she had nothing left inside.


End file.
